Forgotten Soldiers (17 page)

“I don’t even recognize it anymore.”

Ira grunted. “Makes you wonder what our home is like, doesn’t it?”

Home for Dekar and Ira was a small town to the south named Tamra.

“It does,” Dekar whispered.

We entered Main Street in the evening. It wouldn’t be fully dark for hours, yet business owners prepared for night anyway, lighting oil lamps that hung on the posts of awnings over their doorways. Wagons owned by locals began to fill the street while men and women who looked like they had just come in from a hard day of work walked the wooden sidewalks. Many of them headed straight for the taverns.

“Dekar, how old would you reckon most of this is?” I asked.

He grunted. “You can tell a few buildings are fairly recent by how green the wood looks.”

I pointed to a barber shop, something the Denu Creek I remember never had. “What about something like that?”

“Older. Same as the inn on the other side of it. Probably seven or eight years old.”

“That’s what I was thinking too.”

“Why?”

“Just trying to figure out why Lasha never mentioned any of this in the letters she sent to me. She’d write a paragraph about the weather, but not even one sentence about all of this.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess that’s something you’ll have to ask her.”

“Yeah. It just seems so unlike her.”

Ira gave me a nudge and nodded when I looked his way. “You know any of them people?”

I followed his gaze to a group of men standing near the old, single-room jail. It was nice to see there hadn’t been a need to build a bigger one despite the increase in population. I couldn’t read lips, but I didn’t have to. The eyes of the men at the old jail betrayed enough. They made no attempt to hide their displeasure at seeing us.

“No,” I answered.

“What about them?” Dekar asked from behind.

I looked to the other side of the street where a handful of ladies stood outside a tailor shop. They looked just as sour about our presence as the men near the jail. However, most had the courtesy not to act so obvious about it. All except one that is. She spat as we passed.

“Well, that’s nice,” said Dekar.

“Could be coincidence,” I said, not liking the general feeling I had so far. I didn’t recognize those women either. Or anyone else walking about on the dirt streets for that matter.

“Right,” said Ira. “She had this big wad of phlegm she needed out, and it just so happens she dislodged it right as we passed. Very ladylike.”

I noted the sarcasm and gave him a look. He said nothing more as all three of us were too busy focusing on other passersby. I thought I saw a couple familiar faces, but wasn’t sure since heads turned away quickly from us. It wasn’t until we reached the other side of town that someone I knew for sure caught my eye.

I waved at the slender man standing in the doorway of the tanner shop. “Nason! It’s . . .” My voice trailed off as Nason darted inside, looking nervous.

“Friend of yours?” asked Ira.

“Yeah. We used to be pretty close.”

“Emphasis on used to be.”

“He probably didn’t know who I was. I’ve changed a lot in the years I’ve been gone. Besides, we all could use a bath after the time on the road.”

“A man can at least raise a hand in courtesy when someone calls his name.”

“I hate to say it, but at least on the surface, things don’t appear much different here than they did in most other places,” said Dekar.

“I’m sure things will be better once I come back with Lasha and they see who I am. Then they’ll realize I live here and I’m not someone trying to dirty up their town.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Dekar as we left Main Street behind us.

* * *

The tract of land I called home sat a few miles outside of town. That distance had been an aggravation before the war when I’d have to travel it during bad weather to stock up on supplies. Now, it was a blessing as the more distance we put between us and the town, the more our mood lightened. My hope and excitement grew once more as we passed homesteads that reminded me of mine. The township of Denu Creek might have gone through extensive changes in my years away, but the land around it hadn’t changed one bit.

The road curved around a small hill bordered by tall oaks. I always hated that curve, especially at night. The cynic in me thought the place ideal for an ambush by thieves. Even though I had Ira and Dekar with me and was a far more capable fighter, my hand still drifted to the hilt of a dagger strapped at my thigh.

Just like every time before, no one jumped out from those oaks, and we rode along without incident.

My plot of earth sat at the bottom of a small dip in the rolling land. It was odd to see it after so long. For the most part it too remained unchanged. Between growing seasons, someone had cleared the fields in preparation for the next planting. The fence looked as though it could use some work, but that wasn’t anything I couldn’t fix over a couple of days with Zadok.

That thought struck me like a mace to the head. When I left for the army, Zadok was barely two years old. Now, he’d be helping me in the fields, and soon I’d be showing him how to shave. Myra would be fourteen. In a couple of years she’d be starting a family of her own.

Gods, I had missed so much.

I silently cursed everyone who had a hand in taking me away from those years—starting with the Geneshans and ending with myself.

No, I couldn’t exactly have avoided the war. Once they learned of my resistance to sorcery, there was no way they were letting me stay on a farm. Although, maybe I could have faked my death or something and returned home sooner.

That never would have worked. The army would have found me eventually, and things would have been worse than before. Unless I forced my family to leave Turine that is.

But that would have brought on a whole new set of problems.

I looked at Ira and Dekar, then thought of Hamath and Ava and everyone else in my unit. Desertion was never an idea I had seriously considered. I just couldn’t imagine abandoning my friends like that. Even for Lasha and the kids.

The wagon came to a halt. Ira had pulled over, stopping at the entrance to the long path leading to my house.

My house.

“I actually made it back,” I whispered.

Every soldier wants to get home and tells themselves they will. But deep down, I’m not sure how many truly believe it.

A hand slapped my back. Dekar appeared to my right smiling. “You did. We all did. Now go see that family of yours.”

“Unless you enjoy our company so much you want to stay on a bit more?” Ira smiled.

I hopped down from the wagon and pulled out my things. “Don’t get me wrong, I love you, but not that much.” I threw my pack over one shoulder. “Hey, do you both want to come in and say hello? Meet the family? Grab a quick bite to eat?”

Dekar shook his head. “Nah, this is your time. We don’t need to be intruding.” He looked up at the evening sun. “Besides, if we push on for a few more hours before making camp, we should be able to reach Tamra sometime in the late morning. And frankly, I’d rather be kissing Adwa, than taking up room in your place.”

It’s funny how close we’d become when before the war the three of us would never have met despite living in towns a day’s ride from each other.

I smiled. “All right. Maybe in a few weeks, we can get together.”

“Sounds good,” said Dekar as he climbed into the seat next to Ira.

Unlike parting with Hamath, I knew I’d stay in touch with the brothers. A day’s ride was not the same as several weeks.

Ira flicked the reins to get the wagon moving again, then waved. I returned the gesture and headed toward the house. The sound of clomping hoofs and rolling wagon wheels trailed off as they drifted down the road.

Despite the gear and weapons I carried, it took everything I had not to break out into a run. What stopped me from doing so was not the weight of my belongings, but fear. The fear grew as my gaze shifted from my house, to the nearby barn, and then to the empty fields. It was hard to explain, but despite the familiarity, everything felt different. It wasn’t what I expected, and now I worried that my reunion with my wife would be the same.

I knew the war hadn’t been kind to me. I carried new scars. I had worn a beard when I left, but that had caught fire. The thing never grew back right and so I left it off. I doubted the kids would recognize me one way or the other. But I didn’t know how Lasha would react. The last thing I wanted was for her to bar the door when she saw some beat-up soldier she didn’t recognize run up onto her porch. So, I forced myself to walk slowly, doing my best to appear as friendly as a fully armed soldier could be.

The walk from the road to the house was longer than I remembered, but I think that had to do with the anxiety clenching at my chest.

The closer I got, I saw that like the fence, the house also needed a bit of work. I changed priorities mentally, planning to work on the house first with Zadok. Autumn would be around the corner and the last thing I wanted to deal with was a drafty house during the cold months. I’d worry about the fence later.

Thinking about the state of the fence and house had me wondering about my Uncle Uriah. I had him move in with us before I left so he could take care of the farm in my stead. We’d never been close, but he was a good man, although an older one. I hoped nothing had happened to him. His absence would have definitely made it harder on Lasha and the kids.

I was within ten feet of the porch when the door swung open. A big bear of a man filled the entranceway. I froze in surprise. He held a giant broadsword in his hand. The thing looked like it hadn’t seen much use, but I didn’t doubt a man of his size could do some serious damage with a few well-aimed strikes.

In all my thoughts of how this day would turn out, this had never been one of the scenarios to cross my mind. My eyes moved from his sword to his face. No one I recognized. Too young, and the thin beard he wore looked ridiculous.

“That’s far enough,” he told me, voice purposefully altered in a way that made it seem as though he tried to hide his unease. “State your business.”

By that point I had recovered from my own initial surprise. “My business? I should ask you the same. I know I’ve been gone for some time, but I never thought I’d see the day when a man has a sword drawn on him on his own property. I’m not sure who you are or why you’re standing in the doorway to my house like that but—.”

“Ezer, what’s going on?” asked a soft voice from inside.

My heart raced. “Lasha? It’s Tyrus. I—” I said stepping forward.

“Stop right there!” Ezer shouted. He pointed his sword at me. A woman appeared just behind him. She looked to be about the same age as Ezer and bore no resemblance to my Lasha.

I stopped, blinking. “What in the name of Molak is going on? Where is my family? Lasha? Myra? Zadok?” I called out their names.

Ezer pushed his wife back inside. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, mister. I ain’t ever heard of any of them people. We just moved into town a month ago and bought this property from the bank.”

I felt nauseous. “What do you mean you bought it from the bank? I had no mortgage. It’s been in my family since my grandfather was alive. I own it outright.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you did at one time. But now I do. You got an issue with that, then you take it up with the mayor. This place had been abandoned for a while. Those people you’re looking for are probably long gone.”

I shook my head, rubbing my brow with an open hand in confusion. “No, this isn’t right. None of this makes sense.”

I couldn’t accept it and dropped my bag.

Ezer grit his teeth. “Mister, you come closer and I’ll kill you. I heard about what you soldiers did in the war. I won’t let you do that to my wife.”

Red flashed in front of my eyes. I charged forward. Ezer reared back for a massive swing. The move left his torso wide open. Had I actually drawn my sword, I could have opened him up. Lucky for him I hadn’t.

I ducked under the sweeping blade as it thudded into a post on the porch, one that still bore the carved initials of my grandfather’s name. My fist connected with Ezer’s torso. A gust of air left his lungs. I didn’t let up, not on someone that big. I connected two more times to the stomach before finishing him off with a blow to the jaw. He fell hard to the wooden planks. I stepped over his unconscious body and entered my home.

With my heart racing, I breathed deeply. That did little to improve my demeanor. Gone was the smell of Lasha’s bath soap. The smell of freshly picked roses on a side table replaced it.

Lasha hated roses.

“You try to touch me and I’ll kill you. I swear it,” said the woman sobbing in the back left corner of the kitchen. She held a cleaver.

I ignored her as I went quickly through each of the three rooms, looking for some sign of my family. Defeated, I stormed out, stepping over Ezer who was starting to come around. I threw his sword out into the yard before picking up my sack. I headed toward the barn to ease my worry I had that maybe my family was being held captive there.

Just like the house, I found no trace of them.